you've ripped your stitches Redux
by GlobHerman
Summary: Select chapters from stitches, but from Sam's POV. Yes, the sudden change in title and description means there is a new chapter coming sometime soon. Yup.


This probably won't make much sense if you haven't read chapters 3-5 of _you've ripped your stitches_. Maybe. I don't know.

* * *

So you're sitting on your bloodstained couch with Lara, who's suddenly decided that she wants to actually talk about some of the shit that's been going on for awhile now. You're not gonna question it, because it's already way fucking overdue. The problem is that Lara is being Lara and that means that even while supposedly opening up, she's deflecting. She literally said "no I don't want to talk" when you tried starting the conversation. You could have strangled her right there and then, but that might have changed her mind about the whole talking thing. It really is unfortunate that your strangling instinct is still intact from before that fucking island, because every time that it pops up you feel horrible about it and also terrified that you might fuck up somehow. Obviously you wouldn't _actually_ strangle her (she'd probably snap you like a twig in an instant anyway), but previously, whenever you wanted to strangle, you usually got snarky at her or something instead. You're afraid to get snarky now. You're afraid to get a lot of ways now. You're not afraid of _her_ , you're more afraid of your stupid self and all the things you could do wrong. Anyway, switching into strangle mode had made you decide that you wanted to at least have a peaceful breakfast before you had your chat with her. So you ate, and now you're here on the couch with her.

She's kinda just watching you, not saying anything. You really would like to hear her definition of talking. Seems it's up to you to get the ball rolling, so you stab her with your foot and dive right in. "So, how about we start with why you won't tell me about your dreams?" Go big or go home, right?

The words barely leave your mouth before she's Lara-ing again. "Well, you haven't even told me that you've been having dreams."

"Wait." You internally tell yourself to hold off on strangling her, again (you hate yourself for thinking that, again). "No, I…" Okay, so she actually does have a bit of a point there, because you haven't told her. You're stalling while trying to read her to tell whether she actually knows something, or if she's bluffing. "But…" It hits you that, in stalling, you've pretty much held up a flashing neon sign that says "why yes Lara, I have been having nightmares and keeping them from you". Oh well. You'd have to tell her eventually anyway. But this is supposed to be _her_ talk. "You said you were going to talk."

She does this head tilt thing and actually squints at you when she says, "Isn't that what I'm doing?"

You don't even bother to hide your grumble. Lara motherfucking Croft and the evasive questioning. Does she even actually _want_ to do this or nah? "About yourself."

Her head is still tilted. "I don't think that's what I said." Holy hell. God help you, you're going to strangle her (you hate yourself a little more), you might actually do it, you don't know if you can hold yourself back anymore. "Sam, I can't talk about this without you reciprocating. We're a pair, we're both struggling, and your problems are mine as much as mine are yours." Shit. She's sorta making another good point. The urge to strangle decreases slightly, which is a relief. "Besides, you confirmed to me last night that you agreed that we're _both_ avoiding pretty much everything that we should be confronting."

The other thing that Lara does when she's being Lara is go all Spock logical and rational on you. And you don't really want to admit it, but she's right. You exhale loudly at her to hopefully signal some sort of displeasure, and drop your hands against your legs in defeat. "I did, didn't I? Dammit. Fine." She isn't getting out of this though. "But 50/50. And you first, if only because you've been deflecting everything so far." Also because thinking about telling her about some of your own shit is making feel gross.

She does some sort of hand thing at you. Like, flaps it around in the air, and you tell yourself that that's her weird floppy way of agreeing. "I kind of panic whenever I even think about what happened on Yamatai."

Christ. Captain Obvious is now sitting across from you, rather than Lara. The problem is, you can't grump at her about it the way you used to. Well, you don't think you can. You're too afraid to try, because she might take it the wrong way and where would that leave you? Eggshells, the floor is covered with eggshells and you hate it because you're fucking afraid that one day you're gonna say the wrong thing, and she's gonna lose it on you, or worse. You don't even know what the wrong thing is, which makes it scarier. Still, you can't stop yourself from staring at one of the numerous stains on the couch while you deadpan, "You don't say."

"Well, we have to start _somewhere_ , Sam." Her voice has risen. Her voice is risen and fuck, what if _that_ was the wrong thing? You're going to have about a million chances to say the wrong thing today. Fantastic. You suck in a breath and hold it, waiting for something more.

She doesn't say anything further, which is a big goddamn relief. And again, she has a point. "Okay, okay. You're right." And… nothing. She's just staring at you again. You're going to fuck this up, aren't you? Maybe you should, like, see if you can find out if there's anything you need to be extra careful about. It's not like you aren't already starting to freak out about wrecking everything anyway. "Lara? Why do you want to talk all of a sudden?" You've got your mental notebook ready.

"Because the last two days have made me realize that I'm slightly batshit and that I've barely talked about anything that's been troubling me. That I've barely talked, period. Also because I realized that there are a lot of things troubling me that I never noticed, or more likely, ignored. And because I'm thinking that maybe you might be in the same boat, not that I can confirm that, because I'm an idiot and I've barely _thought_ about how you might be feeling, and I don't think I've even asked."

Uh. That was a little heavy. You're trying to stay neutral, you really are, but what do you say to that? "Wow, alright. Well, that's… certainly an answer, isn't it?" You don't know what else to say. Seriously, you have no idea where any of that came from. It's like you somehow popped Lara's repression bubble.

"It…" She trails off, which is a little concerning. "I said that all out loud, didn't I?" She didn't know she was talking? That's… that's more concerning. "You know that I didn't really mean? The part about you being batshit?" Oh, and now _she's_ panicking because she thinks she's upset you. You feel that, you totally know that feel. "That's not necessarily what I should-"

This conversation is already going downhill, fast, and you need to diffuse this, so you cut her off with a totally exaggerated angry face. As much as it sucks watching her trip over her words like that, it makes you feel slightly better, because maybe it's not just you who's afraid of accidentally saying something that could hurt. A lot. "Sweetie, I'm not too concerned about every word you say right now, so long as you keep saying them. You said you wanted to talk, so talk." You're not completely talking out of your ass, you're pretty sure you can handle a few slip ups. Maybe if you can, she can too. Maybe. You try to convince yourself, but nope, you're still super worried. You reach out and brush some hair out of her eyes, and you tap her head as you pull your arm back. "You've been locking everything up in there. You can't keep on that way." Shit, was that too much? Telling her what she needs to do? You try and play it cool as you cross your arms, but you end up not being able to look at her as you tell her, "And since we're finally sharing, I'll state the obvious; I'm guilty of that too, okay?" Hopefully that helped, because your stomach churned a little when you said it out loud.

"I could have at least been a little more tactful though." Oh man, she's apologizing. Again. She's been apologizing for everything. _Everything._ "Really, I'm sor-" Every time she apologizes for something simple, it makes you consider more possible things you could do to fuck up because if she's apologizing for something that you think is trivial, is she thinking that it's not so trivial? You haven't figured out how to ask her to stop though.

You'd like for her to stop apologizing for the duration of this talk though, though. " _If you. Say sorry."_ Oh, shit. Why did that come out so harsh? You apparently have figured out how to ask her to stop as more words are spilling out of your mouth before you can control them. Unfortunately, you're more telling than asking. " _One. More. Time. I will…_ " You'll what? You'll fucking up and leave? That's the last thing you want, and the thing you're most terrified will happen. Seriously, what are you going to do? Surely you can come up with something that's kind of significant… "I'll…" Come on, you need to think. You could… " _I will fucking cancel your fucking Netflix._ " Okay, not the most threatening thing, which you're okay with. Also somewhat relevant. Mental pat on the back for maybe not ruining this. Yet.

When you end up fully focusing back on her- you were afraid to, for a moment- she looks like she's trying not to laugh at you. Which, honestly, is probably the best outcome. "I'm very afraid?"

Okay, well, at least your outburst wasn't some sort of breaking point. "Maybe I'll do it anyway." Pardon you? Why did you just say that? Why are you still talking? "If you don't have anything to stare at for hours on end, you might actually leave the house." Jesus, for being so afraid of messing this up and losing her somehow, you're sure violently stomping on sidewalk cracks. What is wrong with you?

You're slightly zoned out, freaking out about possible repercussions when you hear Lara start muttering to herself. "When _was_ the last time I…" Huh? "I haven't gone outside at all." What? Does she not know? Does she seriously not know? You snap your jaw up when you notice that you're gaping at her. Fuck. Break the news softly, you need to break it softly. You're not sure why you have to break it, you aren't sure how the fuck she doesn't know, but softly is the key word here. "Well," You scratch at your chin, trying to look _oh so deep in thought_. "You did step out to get the paper that one day when it wasn't quite on the doorstep." Was that funny? Or did it come out rude? You need to drop the jokes, drop the twisted version of your normal charming self that you're trying to keep in the conversation. You really don't need to panic about bad jokes right now. You snap your fingers and point at her. You have _no idea_ what you're doing (why the hell didn't you read up more on the internet?). Just- you just need to get things back on track. "Lara, did you really not know that you have barely left the couch since we've been home?" The thought that she was completely unaware of this kills you a little, and any remnants of a smile have disappeared from your face.

Every time you realize that she doesn't seem to know that something's wrong hurts. But it's not like she means to do this to you, or even knows that she is doing it. And anyway, how are you supposed to bring that up? You don't have any idea what you can and can't say to her. You don't even know if there _are_ things you can't say to her, but you can't ask because maybe that's one of the things you can't say to her. She's just so… it's so hard to watch her like this. What the fuck are you supposed to do? You don't know, _you don't fucking know,_ and that makes it worse, because you feel like you should know. So yeah, you've just let it keep happening. And the best part about that is that it adds fuel to your own shit. You're pulled out of your own head when she starts talking again.

"How long have you been watching me act like a total head case without saying anything?" Shit, and now she's calling you out on it. This is so utterly fucked up.

You've gotta tell her the truth though, don't you? Alright. "The day you came home from the hospital?" Hopefully your tone… you don't know. Hopefully it's an apology? You really would have said something if you magically did actually know what to say. You're feeling increasingly uncomfortable and starting to get jittery. And you can't get up and run and lock yourself in a room somewhere because you're in your own damn house. You hate this feeling. You hate that you're so familiar with it. You desperately hope that Lara isn't familiar with it, but you know that it's a lie when you tell yourself that she isn't. Can you make this better somehow? You've kinda already dropped it on her but… "But to be fair, it's not like you've been running around with a knife all stabby-stabby psycho style or anything. You just seem to be," God, where did you learn how to comfort people? How was that supposed to make her feel better? You're too far in to stop, so you keep on chugging. "Not quite yourself lately. Lately like, since we got our asses off of Yamatai." Christ, like that makes it better? You're _so_ fucking this up. You don't know why you thought you wouldn't. "So actually, that's a relatively short amount of time." Why. The fuck. Are you still talking? Does some part of you think that any of what you're saying is making this better? You consciously force yourself to shut your fucking mouth and just follow up by trying to show her how short the amount of time is by measuring it between your fingers. Like you're some sort of reverse fisherman. You'd run away right now, if you weren't absolutely positive that it wouldn't just make things worse.

"But you wouldn't even have to worry about me running around all stabby-stabby if we hadn't needed to get our asses off of Yamatai to begin with." She sounds kinda resigned. Great job you've done. Maybe it _would_ be better if you ran.

However, she's Lara'd her way into being right again. "Does it matter at this point?" You don't think it does. It's not like you can travel back in time to fix it, so no, it doesn't. "What matters now is that we figure this all out." This is something that she's already sorta told you, but then never really followed up on. "Together." You've been wondering if she for real doesn't remember, or if you're deluding yourself. Again, another thing that you don't know how, or even if, you should bring up. Whatever. It was nice to hear at the time, maybe she'll think the same thing. You need to move on, this is turning into a fucking mess. Keep it moving. Just gotta keep it moving. That feels like it's been your motto, lately. Just keep fucking moving.

Conjuring up your best smile (which is a pretty pathetic one), you work on keeping things moving. "How about we go back a bit now, and pick a topic? You've been changing every subject that's been brought up." That gets you a look. A look you deserve, too. "Fine, fine." You hold your hands up in surrender. "It wasn't all you." Can you pull a bit of your _natural_ perky self out of thin air? "Now, it's fun time!" You clap like some sort of fool, and that's about all the perk you have. You're fine with that, because what the _hell_ was that clap? Definitely not natural. That small amount of perk tired you out, and you accidentally let out a sigh. "Pick your poison. Dreams, obsessive apologizing, being glued to the couch, or that whole panicking deal?" None of the above? You race to add, "Or something else you might have on your mind?" You don't know if you want to hear her decision. You're starting to feel a little sick. What a fab idea this was, to do this so spontaneously.

Lara's quiet for some time, but when she chooses, her answer speeds out of her mouth. "Howaboutmenotgoingoutside." Yeah, she didn't want to pick any of those, did she? You don't say anything, give her a moment to back out if she needs to. The fact that you maybe sorta want her to is probably pretty shitty, but you're thinking it anyway. She doesn't back out, but doesn't say anything else either.

"Alright, so we've established that you don't seem to know that the front door exists anymore." You think you see the smallest of a smile on her lips for a moment. You don't know why. You're rambling like an idiot, trying to be funny again for some reason, and almost nothing you've been saying is coming out the way you want it to. You do know what you want to clear up next though. "And you genuinely seemed surprised when I pointed that out."

Her answer is not anything that you expected. It's not even really an answer. "Uh, Netflix, they emailed me yesterday."

You… what? What the _actual_ fuck.

Is she really that worried that you're actually going to cancel that shit? Is that seriously the most important thing on her mind right now? You're- you could. You momentarily ignore your fears, and you want to strangle her (and you hate yourself for it). At one point, while you weren't paying attention, your hand must have covered your face. She actually said. Fucking hell… "Jesus Christ, Lara. Look, if we talk about this and deal with it I won't fucking cancel our account." That was a little harsh. Maybe? Shit. You peek out from your hand and try to follow up with something to lighten it. "I might lock you out from anything other than the kid's section though." You've got nothing past that, and now you're the one who's just sitting and staring.

Lara, for once, fills your silence quite quickly. "No, see, when I read the email, it made me wonder what I've been doing with my time." Okay, maybe you'll listen to this. "I mean, I watched that entire documentary series in the time since I've been home. I kind of started thinking about why I was wasting so much time.

And here you thought she had just learned some master binge-watching skills from you. Actually, she probably did. It's just that when you do it, it's generally on purpose. You go on the assumption that she's going to share her revelation with you, but she just sits there all quiet again. You could probably masquerade as a dentist by now, with all the tooth-pulling you've been doing. Still, you've gotta keep trying to be gentle with her. "And did you come to any conclusions?"

She's looking at you almost quizzically now, as if you should know the answer. Which is pretty hilarious at this point, when you stop to think about it. "I'm meant to be recovering right now, aren't I?

Oh no. Okay, she's definitely got some warped reality thing going on in that head of hers. The fuck are you supposed to keep treading lightly with this? "Yeeaaah…" You don't really know how to lay this out for her, but she's got this freaked out look on her face so you better get on with it. "So the thing is, you can kind of do more than just stare at a screen all day while you finish up with that recovery business. I mean, you haven't even really attempted to do anything else."

You were going to keep going, but she jumps in, all defensive. "I tried to! You didn't let me!"

Christ. Your stomach has been getting increasingly wobbly with every minute that ticks by and you're considering taking a break to go have a quick hurl into the toilet. But no, that should probably get a veto, you think. Might freak Lara out if you do. Who the fuck are you kidding? You'd be done if you did that. Your hand is running through your hair and you decide to lock your hands behind your head so you can keep your fidgeting to a minimum. You end up scratching at your neck, but at least it's subtle fidgeting? To say you're feeling a little jittery would be an understatement. Before you continue, you poke her with your foot, you need to fucking move around somehow, and a few friendly pokes are kinda normal, right?

Lara looks up at the clock. She doesn't say anything regarding it. You think that's probably not a good thing. Alright, you've had a fidget, you've actually taken a proper second to think. You can probably lay this out lightly. "Yeah, I didn't. Which may have been because you _had literally been home for less than twenty-four hours._ " Okay, you apparently can't lay it out lightly. You're not even angry with her, but you're starting to get angry at yourself, which is apparently making you lose the tiny amount of cool you had been clinging to. "Figured I'd try out that thing where we actually listen to professional medical advice." What. Are you. Doing. "After all, wouldn't it be unfortunate if you had gone for a run and ended up," No. Stop. Stop fucking talking. Doesn't even matter that a sudden stop would be weird, you just need to _stop_ talking. "Oh, I don't know, _tearing your stitches_?" Why are you? Why. Just, why?

 _Y_ ou need to apologize _right the fuck now._ "Shit. That was kinda overboard. Shit. Shit." Oh, you're doing such a good job apologizing. Just swear repeatedly, that _was_ how they taught you how to apologize when you were a kid, right? "I'll try to-" To what? Not be a total dickbag? You're pretty sure that should be common sense. The back of your neck is starting to get sore from where you're rubbing it, but you keep on moving and manage to mutter, "I just don't want you to hurt yourself any more than you already have." Out of your peripheral vision, you see that Lara's fingers are suddenly tapping at her side again. What is up with that anyway? "And the doctor did honestly say to limit your physical activity…" She's been all over that wound lately. It's not…? Nah. You need to just focus on _this_ right now.

You pop out of your little contemplation when you notice Lara leaning towards you. "Hey. It's fine. You don't have to sugarcoat everything." You'd been glancing around the room in a sad attempt to avoid catching her eyes, because you didn't want to hear the reaction to your idiotic rant. What she said was not what you thought you were going to hear. "I mean, that would be great if you could." She's even smiling at you. Kinda. You think it's meant to be a smile. You don't think you'd be able to do anything better than that right now, so you decide that yes, it is a smile. And considering what you just said to her, it's actually the most beautiful smile you've ever seen. "But I don't think that's gonna work in this situation. We might have to get a little brutally honest with each other at times." You're simultaneously relieved and stressed, which is a pretty common feeling for you at this point. You're gonna have to Google that, if it's that common there has to be some sort of name for it. Or you're just super messed up. One of those.

You're eager enough to get the fuck away from the last few minutes that you take the cue. Maybe if she knows why you're freaking out on her, it'll make it not so bad? Yeah, you're just gonna keep telling yourself that, all mantra like, as you _do_ try to explain. Calmly explain. "Yeah. Sometimes though, I get scared that. You. I-" Christ. _Calmly explain._ "I just feel bad when I get annoyed with you sometimes. You don't always, hrm. You're not really," At least you have the calm thing a little more under control. Now you just need to stop _digging fucking holes_. "at your best right now, is what I mean," One shovel of dirt back in the hole is better than nothing, you figure. You need a translator or something, like at those meetings where people don't speak the same language? Like, you could sit here, and Lara could sit a little further away and you could talk to the translator who would then tell Lara what you said, only translated from Fucking Idiot into English. "And you don't always deserve it." Alright, well, at least you stuck the landing without completely faceplanting.

She doesn't respond immediately, most likely because she has to translate your gibberish to something legible. "I can handle it. And the same goes for me too, okay? If I get angry?" You aren't going to question the amount of patience she's showing with you right now. No sir. You're just going to sit and listen and try to speak in English from now on. You need to get your shit together. You take a nice, deep breath. "Since we're kind of on the topic right now, when I ripped my stitches the other day-"

Oh no. No, no more of this apologizing. You aren't going mention the fact that you already fucking told her to stop sorrying at you, but you also don't think you can handle much more of her apologizing for everything and anything. You'll just stop her by reminding her that it all turned out fine, end of story. "Lara, I told you already, it's okay. It happens. You just should have called me."

She's got this look on her face, all worried and maybe nervous too. Like she took some cookies from the fucking cookie jar on the top of the fridge before supper and she's gonna confess. You're seriously at a loss for ways to make her realize that not everything is her fault. "I know, it's just," It would be nice to know what it just is, but she's stopped herself from whatever it was she was going to tell you. Actually, it's kinda weird that she _did_ stop herself. "What happened was," You don't know what happened, either, because she's stopped again, and she's getting stuttery. Like you've been. This is _not_ a standard Lara apology, and that freaks you out a little. "It _was_ my fault. I didn't notice at the time but I r… r-really should be more careful when I, um, stretch after I've been sitting on the couch for awhile."

That was… what? You have no idea what that was, but when she stuttered; that was not a normal stutter. She spent way too much time saying "really" than anybody would need. Something isn't right. She changed what she was going to say, didn't she? You narrow your eyes. "Okay…" File that away for later. Whatever just happened? It wasn't right, it wasn't her standard arbitrary apology, and you need to find out what it was that she was going to say. You continue to watch her, hoping for her to perhaps redact what she just said, but she simply sits and watches back. Shit. You won't push it now, but you'll be watching for… something. This feels off.

God, the two of you are fucking time bombs.

You clear your throat, as if it'll somehow clear your head as well, and continue. "Anyway, yeah, you did try to go out that morning. I practically had to hold you back." All you actually did was hide all of her sneakers, but it ended up working, so you counted it as a win. Plus it was pretty hard work rounding up all of those shoes. "But you haven't tried at all since then, and I'm just kinda wondering why." You're quite sure you actually do know, but you don't think that _she_ knows.

"But wouldn't you have stopped me again?" She looks completely fucking oblivious. Ignorance is supposed to be bliss or something like that, right? Maybe you'd leave her alone if she actually did have the bliss thing going on. You don't know the exact definition of bliss, but just looking at Lara is enough to tell you that she's a goddamn spectrum and a half of emotions away from bliss.

The nervous jitters are coming back with a vengeance and you've started to rapidly tap your fingers against the couch. It's not doing much for you, but you don't know how else to get the nervous energy out without fleeing the room. "So those doctor's orders, then. You remember them? Or, uh, did you maybe want me to refresh you?" Okay, so who the fuck are you? Her mom? She doesn't seem bothered, and shrugs at you. She actually shrugs at you. She is so far fucking deeper in this than you thought. "Now, the thing is, it's that you needed to rest up pretty good for a few days. And then after that, you could, y'know, do some light exercise." Are you treating her like a toddler? You feel like you're treating her like a toddler. "And jogging isn't really too strenuous, so I was a little surprised when you didn't try again. At all. It isn't just the jogging, either. You haven't, well, you haven't really tried at anything at all. You really haven't done much. Much of anything." Maybe you're talking to her like she's a teenager. One of those slacking ones. You swear you've had this conversation before, just on the other end of it. Holy shit, you're talking to your teenage self, except this version of you doesn't know that they're slacking. Slacking being a metaphor, of course. You wish she was just slacking.

"I've just been so exhausted, Sam. I decided I should take the down time like you suggested, to get some recovery."

"Uh-huh. Yeah, okay. About that." Finger tapping isn't doing it, and you go back to destroying the skin on the back of your neck. She sounded so sincere. This is even harder than you thought it would be. You glance away for a moment so you can come up with something to tell her, because you don't know what to say to her when she's looking at you the way she is right now. You feel like you're Godzilla and you're coming round to stomp on her imaginary… whatever imaginary thing she has going on. Her little LaraLand of denial. You're going to crush it, and it needs to be done, but that doesn't make it any easier. "Remember like, five minutes ago? When we were talking about you trying to get me to let you go for your jog?" Oh, good, you're speaking in toddler talk again. "Wow, I'm feeling pretty patronizing right now. Fuck. It's just that… Lara, you do remember the reason you wanted to go running, right?"

She goes completely quiet, which is a little unnerving, and frowns off into space. You don't want to interrupt her frowning, because it looks like contemplative frowning. Eventually her frown disappears and her face goes blank. "Now I do." Is she starting to get it? You'd be happy about that if it wasn't such a shitty thing that she was starting to understand. "That _is_ strange, isn't it?"

You are now staring at Lara Croft, lost puppy. This is painful, but you don't know how else to do this. Why the hell is there no _Telling Your Girlfriend That She Needs Help For Dummies_ guide? Maybe you'll write one when this is all over with. Could be a good source of income, fuck knows how else the two of you are going to make money when Yamatai blows over. You can't look at that face anymore, and it doesn't seem like she's gonna say anything, so it's on you. "Right? Strange. Okay, yeah, so since we've agreed on that, I've got a few other things that sorta go with that." Everything is about to get so much worse, which is unfortunately a rather impressive feat, and thinking about that makes your stomach start to churn. You could puke right now, you could actually vomit this very second. The couch _is_ already fucked, but again, you'd probably freak Lara out if you let the vomiting occur. As if you aren't going to freak her out anyway. "Just a few. If you're still good?"

Oddly, she seems to be more good than you are. "Yeah. We can keep going a bit longer. So what else is there?" Yeah, fantastic, does appear to be feeling more good right now, but the fallout when the Nuke of Truth explodes is going to fucking phenomenal.

You cringe, then try to cover it up with a smile. "Good!" You've lost control of your mouth again. It's like your brain thinks you're drunk or something. Being drunk right now might actually be an improvement. You drop the smile, and try to reign in control of your words again. "Uh, well. I mean, not good that we have this stuff to talk about. But the fact that we are talking. That you still wanna keep talking, y'know? That's good. Talking is good. You need to talk." Holy hell, what was that? _Are_ you drunk right now? Why do you have to get so fucking nervous about this, and why do you have to stutter and tumble and basically lose the ability to speak when you're this nervous? Oh. Right. It's because you could ruin your life (or Lara's) by fucking this up. So yes, it totally makes _so much_ sense to lose the ability to word properly when you need it most.

You need to calm down, and you need to focus.

Lara looks more concerned about you than anything else at the moment. "I get it Sam, it's fine." It so isn't going to be fine.

Still, you force yourself to take a few deep breaths and you stretch your legs out. It was meant to be relaxing, but now your feet are bouncing around in Lara's lap. If nervous energy was a refinable resource, you'd be rolling in the cash right now. Or twitching in it, more likely. "Okay. That's also good. Look at all the good happening. Good everywhere." You don't know what to say next, what to bring up next. Also, the word _good_ has lost all meaning to you but you can't stop saying it. You haven't noticed how much time you've spent silently mapping the rest of this talk in your head while also making a list of synonyms for good. It's only when Lara grabs one of your rogue feet and start massaging it that you realize how quiet you'd gone. "Oh." You were so lost in your head that it almost startled you when she picked up your foot. "Thanks." She shrugs at you like it's no big deal, and it isn't, really. Or it wouldn't be, if you weren't Godzilla and she wasn't living in LaraLand. You are the fucking polar opposite of focused right now. Just- if you start talking, you have to focus, right? "I don't really want to bring up that…" _Media disaster._ "Unique documentary show you've been watching, but I kind of have a few things about it."

She chuckles at you. _She actually fucking chuckles._ How is she so chill right now? You're on the verge of passing out or vomiting, or both, and she's having a giggle. "You can call it rubbish, Sam. It's atrociously done," Okay, well at least she won't argue one of your points. "Laughably inaccurate." Something you'll be checking yourself, when you force yourself to watch episode forty-crisis.

"Well, see, that's kind of the thing. Like, I have no idea what a lot of them are even supposed to be about," Most of them seem to be about urban goddamn legends, which would normally drive her up the wall. "But I've caught bits and pieces and… it's kinda a terrible show." As you tell her that, you're mentally pleading her to agree with you, rather than contradict herself. Again.

"I don't think I'm following."

She didn't argue, but that was about as neutral a response that she could give. What are you supposed to do with that? Maybe you should've drawn out some diagrams or flowcharts or something. _Something_ to fall back on when you don't know what to tell her (something that is happening far, far, _far_ too often). You'll keep that in mind for next time, if there is a next time. "Yes. Okay." Your foot gets nervous for you again, and starts tapping around like a hummingbird on crack. You'd say you need to work on your tell, but you'd probably have to be in a full body cast to hide all of this nervous shit you've been doing. That would likely be more telling. "When have you ever watched anything that terrible before? Don't get me wrong here, you've always liked your documentaries." You give yourself a pat on the back for using such well constructed and direct sentences. You then immediately ruin them by dramatically mocking her enjoyment of said documentaries. "For _whatever_ reason that may be." Fuck. "But before the, uh, the whole Yamatai thing," The dramatic mocking appears to have taken grammar away from you again. "Whenever I couldn't get the remote away from you, you would point out every tiny inaccuracy that was presented." You feel you deserve another pat on the back for salvaging that mess.

"So?"

So? So it's great that she's happily in LaraLand (not that LaraLand is a happy place), but it would also be great if she was actually in the real world and you didn't have to sit here and shorten your lifespan by about five years while you figure out a way to drop this on her lightly. "Well, it's just, your taste has changed drastically? Or that, uh, maybe you're just being really apathetic about just how bad these shows have been?" Ah, you've found your tactic. Interrogate her with questions that aren't actually questions. Great.

She looks confused, but not the right kind of confused. Or something. All you know is that she is not at all reacting the way you had anticipated. She's not really reacting much at all. "I suppose they're just a bit of fun, Sam. I get to laugh at them, and it's some mindless entertainment."

Mindless entertainment used to be, like, fucking complicated crossword puzzles. Ones with clues that used words that you didn't know to help you not figure out any of the answers that also happened to be words that you didn't know. "Mindless. Yes. You never really were into much of the mindless stuff before." Not your, or the general public's, definition of mindless, that is. You feel your hands start to reach up and you swear to god that if they hit the back of your neck again, you're going to… fuck. They landed, and all you're going to do about it is scratch at your neck again. Maybe if you gave yourself some gauze paws, you'd at least save the skin back there. Since you seem to have absolutely no control over yourself when you're freaking out this much for this long. "You were always telling me that there's so much to learn. About… things. A lot of things? Things that weren't, like, Donald Trump yelling at people." You have an idea of what she might have to say about that, so you don't give her a chance, carrying on without a pause. "A little more on the mindless thing. Just a tad." Her expression does a quick change, and she looks slightly clueless again as she nods at you. You don't understand how she's actually still sitting here with you, as opposed to getting the fuck out or maybe just punching you in the face to shut you up. _Maybe_ the clueless thing is helping? "Alright. Thanks. So, all the Netflix lately. Like, _all_ the Netflix." Seriously. If you come home to that fucking red screen one more time… "All, like, a huge portion of your time."

She shoots you a "no shit, Sherlock" sort of glare, and yeah, you've already brought this up. But you're not going to fuck this up by potentially jumping ahead of her. You'll state the obvious a thousand times over if it means getting the two of you on the same page. You'd also have exceptional foot and ankle muscles (are those a thing?) and a disturbingly exfoliated neck around the second hundredth repeat. Hopefully you won't have to do more than a dozen or so obvious statements. "I think I mentioned that earlier, right?"

You're starting to panic more about what you're leading up to and your focus is starting to waver further. "Yuh-huh. Exactly. So, we agree that yeah, you spend a lot of time with the TV. Good. That's…" What? It's what? You're grasping as you close the sentence. "Good." Fucking hell, you're gonna ban that word from the house after this. It's nice to know that Lara realizes what's what with the 'Flix, at least. You're hoping she's caught up on the next bit as well. "I've noticed that you've been spending less time, obviously, with your other stuff." _Specifics._ "Like your books. And your maps. And your languages that I can't read. Basically all your nerd stuff." You brace for impact.

There is no impact. All that happens is Lara continues to look lost as she tells you, "I've been having a bit of trouble concentrating. I think it's because I've been so tired."

"Yeah, there was that day I came home and you kind of, I don't know if you remember," Whether she does or doesn't, you would like for your brain to explain to you why it's told you to remind her of this. "But you kind of had a little rant about it at me?"

And you've upset her. Not a surprise, but she immediately looks alarmed and like a reflex she's telling you, "Right. I'm sor-"

An apology was _not_ what you were looking for. What you were actually looking for is a mystery to you, but you don't want another fucking apology. "No! Stop." She does. You hate to repeat yourself, but you really can't handle it anymore. "Stop with the sorries. I know that isn't what we're talking about right now, but please, stop apologizing." You feel your foot drop from her hands and the tapping picks up speed again. She looks slightly stunned, and even more confused. Full points for her recovery though, as she picks up your other foot and carries on with the foot massage that you don't really deserve. You should probably carry on too. "Alright, where was I?" What was that you were thinking about focus earlier? Right, it was that you needed to do it. "Oh. Um. Okay, so it's been like, maybe a week since that happened?" You get a nod in response. "And, well, maybe I've just not been around to see, but have you tried again at all?" Asking this shouldn't be terrifying. It sorta is. "Like, even once, maybe?" You're quickly approaching maximum panic.

Your heart rate is rapidly increasing while she quietly stares past you. You assume she's thinking about it. "Not really. I haven't felt up to it, I guess."

That isn't shooting off alarm bells for her? It doesn't seem to be, and it feels like she's passed them on to you instead and double alarm bells are going off in your head while your pulse is still speeding along. You really don't fucking want to tell this to her. You really didn't fucking realize how deep in denial she was. You're trying really fucking hard to regulate your body functions. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears and you give up; prolonging this is just going to give you health problems, and you've already accepted that five years of your life are gone. Fuck. The time has arrived. "So. Would you maybe… is there a chance that maybe you've possibly lost interest in, uh," You'd berate yourself about your amazing articulateness if you weren't concentrating so much on remembering to breathe. "Would you say that you've lost some interest in," You need to look at her. You can't be fucking staring at the curtains right now, and you take some concentration from breathing and hand it to eye contact. "Well, your stuff?" Jesus. Okay, you allow a tad more concentration to go back to wording correctly. Your breathing goes a tad more shallow. "I mean, not like you don't care at all anymore, just that…" Fuck. Maybe you should have written her a letter. That's weirdly fucking formal but at least you wouldn't have to speak. "You don't…" What kind of idea is that? A letter would be worse, because you'd have to be there while she read it and you'd probably drop dead of an aneurism while waiting for her to finish.

Focus. You need to do this right. Breathe. You divert concentration from words back to breathing just long enough for a deep inhale. "I mean, you haven't really touched your books at all and it's kinda weird that you aren't all over me trying to convince me to let you exercise or whatever and you don't even really watch the same kind of TV you used to and I mean yeah they're documentaries but…" Your sentence ends when the air you inhaled is gone, which isn't a terrible thing, you suppose. That wasn't exactly what you wanted to say, and you hope that you got your general point across.

By the expression on Lara's face, you think that maybe you did. Or at least, she's got a hint of an idea now. You don't want to do this, and you just don't understand why it has to be so hard. If it wasn't already hard enough, you've been making it harder by imagining all the possible bad endings to this. You can't fuck this up. You can't. "You've told me how tired you are, and I guess that's a reason to not exercise, but you had the opposite reason to try and convince me for one day. And you haven't brought it up since." That was surprisingly well said, relative to the rest of this day. "You've actually been using the tired thing as an excuse?" Well, good things can't last forever, you realize as you convert back to not really interrogation mode. "It's kinda like, you don't even seem to care about it? Like, you might be kind of apathetic?" You would really like to make these things sound like solid statements but your heart is roaring in your goddamn ears and making it hard to think. "Apathetic about a few things? Not interested in others. Things that you used to be interested in, and kind of enthusiastic about?" She doesn't cut in at all, which actually sucks a little, because you're getting lightheaded and it would help if you had a chance to replenish the oxygen that you're missing out on because of your shallow breathing.

But it's go time now. There's no going back. She hasn't interrupted, sure, but the look on her face is not good. It's not good, and breathing gets even harder as your throat dries up. You need to just say it. "'Cause I've been reading a bit, not much really, but I noticed that all of those things kind of go together sometimes?" _Fuck._ "So what I read is that when a lot of those things go together," You can barely hear yourself talking, and fear is fully kicking in as you finish, "it sometimes means that maybe-"

"You haven't touched your camera since we've been home."

Fear has fully kicked in now, but you didn't finish, and wait, what the _fuck_ did she just say?

"I don't know if I've even seen you look at any of the footage that I got on Yamatai, let alone try to record anything."

The worst part of this is that you're practically dying, and she looks, well, not perfectly calm, but a hell of a lot better than you feel. You're jittery and lightheaded, an artery in your brain might decide to blow, your pulse is going fucking insane, you could go for a vomit, and she's fucking turning this around on you? And it's like she's just taking a stroll through a park. _Fuck_ this. It takes you awhile to realize that you're sitting and staring and just breathing, and you don't know how long you've been doing so, but you spit out the first response that comes to you. "I've been busy."

The look on her face right now. She looks like she's just won the finals of some national fucking high school debate and maybe you _could_ choke her. "Sam, you used to stay up until who knows how late editing footage and messing with your camera. You never had a problem fitting it in before." You're suddenly feeling oddly clear, if somewhat angry. But you can hear over your heartbeat, and you're breathing almost like a normal human again. If you stood up, you probably wouldn't drop like a sack of potatoes, because your head is swaying rather than spinning. You still feel sick though. Really fucking sick. "I haven't had a camera up in my face other than when I first gave it back to you." You have nothing. You're blank. What are you supposed to say? _This_ was not even close to any scenario you had imagined. "If I'm wrong, you can tell me."

It's the minuscule, but still noticeable, smug grin that passes over her face for the briefest moment that's the deal breaker. You're out. _[s he isn t wro ng]_ How, though? Glancing around, you catch a glimpse of the clock. That'll do. _[b ut s hes rig ht]_ "Y'know, we've been talking for quite awhile now. Maybe we should take a break, come back, maybe talk about one of the other topics." Everything is fucked and you're completely weirded out by how calm you've suddenly become. _[ev en though she is completely right]_ Like, Lara just reset all of your fucked up body functions with a few sentences, and not in a good way. She may have accidentally reset you from panic mode with body regulation turned off, and rebooted you in anger mode, with clarity turned on. _[the t hin g is t hat sh es the f urt h est thin g fro m wro ng]_ "You know, cover as much ground as possible? Yup, feels like break time." _[no t wr ong j us t too rig ht]_ She gets no input, and you're off the couch before you even finish talking.

Where you're going to go though, you have no clue. Away is the most important criteria. You find yourself heading towards the bedroom, which isn't ideal, but whatever. You can hear Lara yelling after you. You don't give a shit right now. She seems to though, because she's swearing loudly to herself. Frankly? You don't give a damn.

You storm into the room, and refrain from slamming the door. While you try to figure out what the fuck just happened and what you should do about it, you find yourself moving towards your laptop. You plop yourself in chair in front of it and flip the lid open. You've run the tail end of the conversation through your head about seven times before you boot the computer up, and opting to not think about anything, you vacantly watch the screen as it goes through the motions. You carry on vacantly watching the screen until it goes back to sleep. It's been awhile, and Lara hasn't come after you. All of your fears are gone for the moment, and you tell yourself that when (not if) she does come to find you, you'll be letting her know that it's time to work on one or two of her problems. You do a bit of clicking and your own smug grin shows up for the second and a half it takes to cancel an Amazon order.

Fantastic timing, as moments later (before you have a chance to recognize what a huge mistake you just made), you hear footsteps headed your way. And then some knocking on the door. "Sam, listen. I shouldn't have said what I said. At least not the way I did. It's fine if you don't want to go back over everything right away, but we probably shouldn't just drop it all completely. We were- _you_ were getting somewhere." Damn straight you were. "Hey. Sam. It's something that I don't want to think about. Clearly." The way that she suddenly admits to you that she's now aware that she's been repressing things clears your head a bit. In a different way than before. "I get it if you don't want to either, but you were literally a sentence away from the root of that whole conversation, and I ruined it all." She sounds tired. The fuzzy anger that was in your head is dissipating, and fear starts to return as you realize what you've just done. "I'm not going to say that I'm, uh, feeling the way that you, well, you rather firmly told me not to express?" Oh, fuck. She's fucking- she's Lara-ing again, and making sense again. She's also _scared_ to say sorry because of you. You're fucked. "But I honestly feel bad about what I did. What I said."

You're running out of steam now, and you slide down a little in the chair, closing your eyes to try and figure out what actually just happened. "Hey." Lara's voice is suddenly a lot closer and you keep yourself from jumping when you suddenly feel a hand on your shoulder. Oh boy. Denial runs deep in the both of you, doesn't it? You need to fucking admit it to yourself just as much as you need to make her aware of it, and it's almost funny that you thought that she was this year's Miss Repression winner. "We're gonna figure everything out."

You are severely fucked up in the head. There. Admitted. Acknowledged. Done. Too little too late. But done.

"Together." Of course you'll do it together, because you have _the same fucking issues_ that you were just berating her with. If she'll have you. Your stomach drops when you consider the possibility that she won't. "Remember?" Well, you do now, but it's probably a little too late. "It was supposed to be a 50/50 conversations, right? I preemptively jumped at your 50, and aggressively. I didn't mean to, but I panicked, and I did." If you, in any way, fault her for panicking, you'd be the world's largest hypocrite. "But Sam, just because I was an ass about it, that doesn't mean I wasn't right. It also doesn't mean that you weren't right either." Seems like you've won, after all. You'd laugh, if this wasn't so fucked up. You sigh instead.

A minute later, you feel her hand disappear from your shoulder, but before you can turn to stop her from leaving, her chin is resting where her hand had just been. How is she putting up with you? "So, what were you up to?"

Oh, fucking… _shit_ of all shit. Your heart starts beating slightly faster and you're freaking out again. You're majorly panicking. So majorly that autopilot kicks in to make you follow through. "I just cancelled the couch you ordered." The panic is telling you to carry on with your dick plan, while rational thinking is yelling at you to shut the fuck up. The contradiction in your head is too fucking much, and your wavery voice is probably giving you away. Hopefully. God, you hope it's giving you away. You don't mean this, you hope you don't fucking sound like you mean this. She doesn't say anything, and you hear a chair scrape up behind you. Your vision is getting a bit blurry. You can tell by the way that she snuggles her head into your shoulder that she's sat down behind you. No. Please, no. You pull away, and finally turn to look at her. Your brain is screaming at you to stop, that you have a chance to stop this, that you don't need to do this. You hear your life shattering as irrational panic causes you to tell her, all teary eyed with some fucked up tone that you can't control, "We're _going out_ furniture shopping tomorrow."

You've just punched in the nuclear launch code. You didn't bother setting a countdown timer, either.

And Lara? You'd love for her to maybe respond. Well, she is kinda responding, in a way. She's sitting there, not moving a muscle, and you think that might be a death glare she's giving you. You're fucking terrified.

"Wow, Sam." The neutrality of her voice is a little worrying. "Great. Really great, Sam." The neutrality issue goes out the window immediately as she's getting louder and louder with each word. " _How. Fucking. Mature."_ The death glare is intensifying, and despite that, it's not her that you're scared to death of. You're scared of what's going to happen as a result of… this. Of what you did. The death glare seems to hit a critical point, and she's out of the room so fast that you could have missed it with a blink. It takes longer for the chair that she tipped to hit the floor than it does for her to get herself away from you.

Those tears that were in your eyes are insisting on getting out somehow, but if you're going to go after her, you don't want to be a sobbing wreck. You sniff back any that threaten to escape. Do you go after her, though? Would that be worse or better? You don't know you have no idea why did nobody ever teach you how to deal with this sort of stuff or how to be an adult or just _anything_ actually important that you need to know about life? "Fuck. _Fuck!_ " What is wrong with you? And yelling isn't going to fix this. Still… " _Fuck!_ " Kicking Lara's chair further across the room isn't going to fix anything either, but you find yourself doing it anyway. You'd feel less like a kid throwing a temper tantrum if the swearing and furniture kicking was making you feel better, but it isn't. And dammit, those tears really want out, but you stubbornly choke back a gross sob. Maybe you can get her to come back? You call after her, rather feebly. "Lara." Unsurprisingly, she doesn't materialize in front of you. You'll give it another pointless try. " _Lara!_ " Your voice hits a nice pitch, and Lara's name crumbles into the tears that you've been desperately holding back. You fucked it all up. You fucked it all up, and right now your only solution is to join the toppled chair on the ground and cry.

Somewhere between five minutes and five hours later (you've lost all track of time), you don't think you can handle not knowing. During the last five minute-hours, you downgraded from gross sobbing to small hiccups. You don't know what kind of tears you have left in you, but depending on what happens out there, you might actually upgrade to full-out hysterical sobbing. When did you become such a pathetic mess? You heave yourself up off the floor and slowly make your way back to the disaster site. It's empty. There's nothing- there's nobody there. Your pulse stays pretty chill for once, but your head is spinning and you're slightly dizzy and you're barely able to call out, "Lara?" Miraculously, fucking miraculously, a hand pops up past the back of the couch. "Oh, thank god, you're-" You'd rather see slightly more evidence before you come to any conclusions, so you shut up when you notice that her arm is doing that floppy thing again, and don't waste any time getting to the other side of the couch.

Lara _is_ there. So at least you weren't hallucinating that. Though, she could just want you gone instead. You wipe at your eyes as you wait for her to say or do something. She deserves first say right now, you think. She doesn't look angry anymore, but she doesn't really look happy either. Actually, she just looks exhausted as she says the last thing you expect her to. "C'mere." It takes you a moment to compute, but when you do, you're crawling onto the couch with her. When she wraps an arm around you, you don't understand or believe what's happening. She's still here and she doesn't seem to hate you.

You take the opportunity to bury your face into her neck. It's comforting, and it's continued proof that she is indeed still here, in all capacities it seems. You mumble against her skin, "You're here."

Her face is hidden from you, but you hear a hint of confusion in her voice. "Yeah, I'm… where else would I be? Well, maybe in the study. Or I could have been in the bathroom, I suppose." Or she could have been halfway across the country.

"No, you're _here_." Somehow, someway, she is, despite your fantastical fuck up.

It takes her a minute to reply. "I am. I'm right here, yeah?" She is. she is she is she is. You're the biggest fucking asshole on the planet, but Lara's still here. She doesn't even seem to understand what your blubbering is implying.

So, what is this? Is it some sort of second chance? One free fuck up? Do you really get a second chance, here? You barely stop yourself from bursting into tears again though holding it in makes you hiccup one more time. Words aren't going to happen, and all you can muster is a weak nod against the crook of her neck. God, you don't know if you should be given a second chance, but you'll take it. You'll fucking take it.

* * *

 _do you understand that we will never be the same again? the future's in our hands and we will never be the same again_

* * *

And that is the inside of Sam's head. Any semblance of normal Sam fucks off pretty quickly when she panics and/or gets worried.

Panicked Sam is not rational Sam. Scared Sam is Not Rational Sam.

Not Rational Sam is somewhat a train speeding off the rails.

So yeah, Sam's thoughts are definitely going a million miles an hour compared to Lara.

I hope you enjoy this filler while I scramble to finish the next chapter of _stitches._ It's not the most joyous chapter, but it's not a fucking downer and pity party like this is, but I feel like shit and needed to write something not so happy. My happy muse peaced out just as I got to them having a chance to be happy for a bit hahahahah.

Might do more Redux shit from Sam's POV if this goes over okay/there's any interest. Please indicate somehow if you are indeed interested in reading the same dialogue you've read before but with more bad words and bad jokes.

Or I might just do more because I can.

oh and the font in the cover image is called anal probe i just wanted to let you all know that and that the name is definitely about 64% of the reason i used it because i am an immature child


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